Soot and Sin
by nani'anela
Summary: Castiel finds Dean barely alive inside his soot-blanketed car, reeking of carnage and weak from blood loss and shock. But the Darkness takes what it wants- leaving Dean without the arm that previously housed the Mark, and without his brother. Castiel must make an angelic bond with Dean and use his grace to burn the Darkness out of him once and for all. Pick up from Season 10 finale
1. Chapter 1

Each breath grated against the back of his throat like steel wool, and the taste of iron coated the back of his tongue. _Dean_ , Castiel repeated the name as a manta to himself once again as he limped on, panting, each footfall kicking up a talcum powder soft cloud of the soot layered thickly on the ground. _Dean Winchester is close. He is close, and he is dying._ He passed the large, softly sloping hill of black that he suspected contained a building, and he finally laid his eyes on the soft curve of black ash covering something the size of a car. _The_ car.

 _Celerity, Castiel_. The angel urged himself on and swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, and red smeared against his tan sleeve. _Dean, ol esiasch. I am here. I am coming for you._

Castiel smeared his hand over the side of the lump of ash, and the silver handle of the car door very dimly shone back at him, covered in grime. The door groaned and then squealed in protest as the angel wrenched it open. Jet black ash broke into several tiny waterfalls from where it had layered about half a foot deep on the roof of the car, streaming down to form tiny mounds on the ground before trickling to a stop.

It was hard to see inside the car, as the soot had blanketed all of the windows and the windshield as if it had created a miniature cave. Castiel squinted hard into the small pocket of darkness, and saw only one human being draped limply across the car's leather bench seat. The interior of the car reeked of blood, and as he watched the large garnet pool collected on the seat dribbled down the side of the leather to wick into the carpet on the floor.

"Dean," His voice was more of a raspy growl, as he ducked into the car and wrapped his arms around his chest, sliding him backward with a large grunt. Dean's right arm had been ripped clean off, almost all the way up to his shoulder, leaving just a small nub behind. Bright red strips of flesh hung like raw chicken strips Castiel had seen Dean cooking in the kitchen once, and his stomach knotted uncomfortably at the connection. He saw the severed bone poking out from the lump of bleeding flesh and felt his face grow tight. _Stop the bleeding_ , the angel thought in a panic, _Or he will suffer from severe exsanguination._

He reached out and lightly touched his shoulder where skin was still intact, funneling a bit of his grace into healing the skin over, just so he could stop the bleeding for now. The regrowing of the limb could come later, when he'd have more time to concentrate. He tilted his head to the side in confusion and withdrew his hand. _Nothing_. Nothing had happened. Screwing up his face, he poked his fingers to Dean's shoulder again firmly and shot out more energy, and that was when he felt it. The repression.

"Oh, boy." The angel huffed. The Darkness wouldn't let him.

 _Tourniquet, Castiel._ Quickly _,_ his fingers tugged at the tie around his neck. Once it came undone he pulled at one side and it slipped into his hands. He grimaced as he looped it over Dean's shoulder and tucked it under his armpit, and with a harsh couple of tugs he made it as tight as possible before tying it.

He let out another nervous huff and reached out to slide Dean's gun with the lovely pearl grip from the holster on his thigh. With a tight exhale, he emptied the shiny bullets from the chamber to tumble into his slightly bloody palm. _Cauterize this wound immediately_. Castiel popped each bullet open easily, as his inhuman strength was back with the returning of his grace. He packed the gunpowder onto the raw flesh until the entire stump was covered in the black grit like a steak covered with pepper and- _oh_ , his stomach slowly rolled. Castiel's had to close his eyes for just a split second. _Stop comparing this situation to culinary ones,_ he had to firmly remind himself. _Your vessel could react -unpleasantly._

He dug around in the glove compartment for their trusty old and scratched steel lighter. He unsheathed the lighter with a faint clink, and swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry, Dean." His voice trembled, and he quickly flicked the grooved wheel with the pad of his thumb and the flame danced as his hand shook.

Dean didn't even flinch.

The smell of burnt flesh made Castiel retch and cough, but at least the blood flow had been cut off. The angel took Dean's good arm and looped it over his neck, and with a loud grunt slung the rest of his body across his back into a secure Fireman's carry. He wrapped his forearm tightly along the back of Dean's knees and lifted, a hiss of air escaping his interlocked teeth. Dean's listless head flopped down and his ash-dusted cheek pressed to the angel's shoulder. The stump of his arm hung just a few inches from the angel's face as the other limply down Castiel's back, his curled fingertips brushing the small of his back. That charred smell made the angel wrinkle his nose in disgust.

"Sam!" Castiel's throat was too constricted, making the call much quieter than he would have preferred. He coughed, the air was still heavy with pollution and he could feel it aching in his lungs. Dean's clammy cheek bumped along his shoulder with each hacking cough. He cleared his throat and tried again.

" _SAM!_ " He bellowed, his teeth flashing much whiter from the dark grime smeared on his face. "SAM! _SAMUEL!_ " He scanned the area, looking for anything that could signify the presence of the younger Winchester. He dipped his head into the bloody cave of the car, but it was empty. He looked for any human-sized lumps covered in ash, or signs of him getting out of the car and leaving...nothing. Not even a single footprint, unlike the deep trail of footprints the angel had made on his way to the buried vehicle. It was like he'd vanished into thin air. The angel couldn't feel him nearby, either.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel whispered defeatedly as he outstretched his wings to fly. "I'm sorry, Sam."

* * *

 _Tik, tik, tik._

Dean couldn't quite remember the moment when he'd actually woken up. His eyes were partially open and he squinted through his eyelashes, the only thing in his field of vision was a slowly spinning fan, way up above. One side from the pentagram consisting of several crossing chains had come undone, and the hanging chain was clinking against the slow-spinning fan blade.

 _Tik, tik, tik._

Dean blinked. _Where the hell am I?_ He was in a bed and he was shirtless, he could tell, and large strips of cloth were wrapped around his pectorals and thickly padded along his shoulder. His jeans were gone, too, he was just in his cotton boxers.

"Dean," He heard the familiar gravel next to him.

"Cas..?" He tried to turn his head, but a firm hand shot out and kept it in place.

"Try not to move," Castiel instructed firmly. "Try and relax your body."

When his face did come into Dean's view, Castiel was peering down at him with a small frown. He looked even more disgruntled than normal, his hair was a mess and he still had dirt smeared on his face.

"Oh, Dean." He huffed in a cranky little grumble, the pressure from his hands surrounding Dean's face as he gently cupped his cheeks. "What happened this time?"

"I had _nothing_ to do with it," Dean mumbled, his eyes falling closed once again. "Something came out of the frickin' **sky** \- _literally_ , Cas, out of goddamn nowhere-"

"Shh." The angel's calloused thumb gently smudged the stubble on his cheek. He gazed at Dean, a deep sadness tightening the features of his face. Dean could only peer back with half-hooded eyelids. "I know. I was there when Rowena completed the spell. You are not to blame for this."

" _Thank_ you," Dean huffed irritably. He figured all this pain was factoring into his less-than-pleasant mood: his arm that used to have the Mark still burned, and Dean wondered why Cas had let him have it in such an uncomfortable, twisted position while he slept.

"Cas, jesus, my _arm_." Dean hissed, trying to flex his muscles to try and stop the burning, but something felt off. "Untwist it or something.. _ahhh_. It hurts."

"Dean-" Cas began, his voice very low. He let out a dejected huff of air. "I'm going to sit you up now."

One of Cas's palms curled around where his shoulder met his neck, and gently squeezed there. He pressed his other palm flat over his shoulder blades and helped to pull him to sit up straight. It gave Dean a head rush, as a tinny ringing suddenly filled his ears and black splotches overcame his field of vision. There wasn't much to see in the safe room except a wall with pinned articles from a case from a long time ago, and Cas. Cas looked very worried, a tiny wrinkle had formed in between his eyebrows and he ground down on his teeth, Dean could see the slight ripple in his jaw.

"Are you alright," Cas ended his question in a hard tone, scrutinizing him with a squinty stare as he steadied him with one hand and used the other to cup the side of his face as Dean's eyelids fluttered.

"-Just got dizzy for a second," Dean mumbled defeatedly, leaning into the soft touch of Cas's hand on the side of his face. God, he felt so weak. He had no idea why Cas was suddenly being so affectionate with him, but he didn't mind at the moment. He felt like shit, and it was kind of helping (not that he'd ever admit to that). " 'M okay."

"You've lost quite a lot of blood. When I finally got to you, I think you'd gone into shock as well." The angel paused and dipped his head in shame for a second, as if he were working himself up to say something. His tongue darted out to nervously lick his lips, and he seemed to be looking everywhere except Dean's eyes. "Dean, I...I just need you to know I did everything I could, and I tried everything I know. I couldn't fix it." Cas began reluctantly.

"What are you talking about? Sorry for what?" Dean closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The pain in his head was agonizing, throbbing against his temples. He already knew something didn't feel right.

"The Darkness takes what it wants and-and they took it back." Cas explained in defeat, his voice scratching at the back of his throat as he kept Dean upright by holding onto his bicep. "They took the arm, and they took Sam."

"Cas, what are you-" Dean moved both of his arms to look at his hands, but he saw only his left palm trembling back at him. The head rush returned in full, the room grew exceptionally bright and a flurry of black snowflakes swirled in his field of vision. He barely registered the hands that swiftly helped to lower him to lie back down, and he moaned softly as something ice-cold pressed to the back of his neck.

"I've learned the nurses do this after blood donations. I don't actually know why. I think it helps?" Cas spoke calmly. He paused for a beat. "Is it helping? Dean?"

The world was churning for Dean at a very unpleasant rate, and he just tried to focus on his breathing.

"...Dean?"

"Cas, jesus, give me a second here!" Dean shot back irritably. "My _head_ , goddammit."

When Dean's vision finally stopped swirling, he made out the angel's worried expression once again.

"I'm sorry. You weren't ready to sit up yet, I don't think." Cas mumbled.

"Worst nurse ever," Dean mumbled, still trying to joke. The corner of his lip ticked up into a smile.

" _Dean_ -"

"Kidding." Dean quickly interjected before the angel could get any more offended. He blinked and his eyes searched the angel's face slowly, he was frowning sourly and hovering very close to his bedside. Dean realized Cas must have hated to see him hurt like this, and being powerless to help. His worrisome expression was easy enough to figure out.

"Cas, I don't know why but I...I can still feel it." Dean began numbly, trying to flex both of his hands into fists again. His missing arm that had once had the Mark still burned, liked it was somehow twisted behind his back. His heart had started to pump quickly, and he could hear the rapid beat from behind his ears.

"Phantom limb syndrome." Cas explained quietly. "I thought that might happen to you. It was...torn away quite violently."

"Jesus," Dean sighed, covering his eyes with his palm. "And you said Sammy..."

"Sam was not there when I got to you. I've tried everything to find him, and I...I can't. The Darkness, it hinders me somehow. I don't understand it. I can't heal, I can't connect to angel radio, flying is very difficult. I'm..."

"So you're all powered down again?" Dean asked, ticking up an eyebrow.

Cas shook his head slightly. "Not...exactly. My grace is all there, it just feels...strange. It's being repressed." Cas didn't look any less worried. "Dean, some of this Darkness was still within you when I found you. That's why I put you into this room instead of your own bedroom. It's still inside of you, and I..." The angel finally seemed to break, digging his the bottoms of his palms into his eyes as he sat back down into the chair angled next to Dean's bed. "I'm at a loss, Dean. I don't have all the answers. I've _tried_. I-I don't know."

"Cas-" Dean tried to interject.

"I don't know where Sam is, things aren't _working_ Dean, I..." The angel buried his face in his hands. "I couldn't protect the two of you, and-I can't... I'm sorry, Dean."

"Hey." Dean said softly. "Cas, look. Things are just...what they are right now. Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? We can figure this all out. We can find Sam, get this Darkness bottled up or whatever...you get me?" He struggled to sit up- it took a lot more ab muscles that usual- but managed to shift and get his legs dangling over the side of the bed.

"Yes," Cas croaked, finally lowering his hands and peering at Dean over them.

"-And you're not actually the _worst_ nurse ever." Dean hoped that would make Cas smile. "And I mean- _it's just a flesh wound._ _'Tis but a scratch_ ," Dean put on an awful English accent and gave Cas a shit-eating grin as he threw his arm out in an open gesture. "Ah? _Ah?_ "

"Dean, you are-" The angel shook his head but finally did smile, just barely. It vanished quickly, but at least it was there. _Damn,_ Dean thought. _Did Cas really just **get** a reference?_

"So, can I go for a stiff drink now, or what?" Dean asked, his hand plopping down with a faint smack onto his thigh. "And maybe put on some actual clothes?"

Castiel's eyes flew wide for a second before he stood back up and stopped Dean from standing up. "No! No, uh, just stay here." He sputtered. "I don't know what will happen to you if you get closer to the source. Outside."

"Right." Dean grumbled. "Darkness, inside me. Can't forget about that."

"Yes." Castiel replied. "It's nothing compared to all that was stuffed inside of you when you had the Mark, but it is significant. I think I know of a way to..." He trailed off, looking unsure that he really wanted to say the next thing. His eyes flicked nervously to meet Dean's.

"You know a way to fix it, don't you?" Dean prompted.

"I...yes. Maybe. It's all hypothetical."

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged dramatically. Oh wow, that really threw off his balance. "Well?"

"I could..." Cas looked extremely nervous, and he was doing that thing were he looked everywhere but Dean once again. "I could, well, bind you to me. Our souls. Uh, together. Soul... binding. It would effectively burn the Darkness inside away, out...uh..." Cas cleared his throat, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something else, but he closed them again and let out an embarrassed huff.

There was a beat of silence. Dean stared at Cas, raising his eyebrows. Cas stared back solemnly, and when Dean screwed up his face and shrugged again he tilted his head slightly to the left. " _What?_ " The angel huffed crankily.

"Christ, Cas, if it's that easy then let's just do that right now!" Dean had to chuckle.

The angel flushed very red suddenly at that. "Oh, well, I...Dean..." He turned away, fiddling for no feasible reason with the ice pack and little bottles of painkillers he'd set up on a bedside table. "It's...uh..."

"Yeah?"

"It would be permanent." The angel began, licking his lips. "It's...probably too intrusive for your liking."

"Well, like what?"

"We would be able to sense each other's locations at all times." Cas began tentatively. "We could tell how the other is feeling."

Dean paused and gave Cas a _look_. His intense _'Dude, are you serious?'_ look. "Well, that's good, right? Like, if you'd done it with Sam we'd know where he is right now- It would probably be a good idea if we got separated, and well...whatever. Maybe that other part will help with all your emotional constipation."

Cas looked offended. " _My_ emotional-!"

"Fine, maybe a little bit of mine, too." Dean teased, somewhat shyly. "What else?"

"Nonverbal communication, as well." Cas elaborated. "But Dean, I don't think you understand the _permanence_ of this kind of decision-"

"Great." Dean interrupted gruffly. "Cas, the permanence is _great_. Since when has anything good in my life stuck around?"

"How are you so sure that it will be a good thing?" Castiel asked quietly.

"Because I've known you for six years now and..." Dean trailed off, not quite sure what to say. "Look, you told me yourself you'd stick around long enough to "see me murder the world", remember that? After everyone else was gone? If you were willing to stick around for me in the first place, well, I guess...I'd stick around for you, too." It was almost like what he'd just said took a second to sink in for Dean, as he suddenly dipped his head in embarrassment. Had he really just said that out loud?

The was a beat of slightly awkward silence. "Then we will." Cas cleared his throat, still turning his back to Dean as he fiddled with an orange pill bottle and shook a few pills into his hand. Dean had no idea why Cas was making such a big deal about it, but then again he did things like that all the time. "Take these for the pain. And I will start collecting the ingredients soon."

" _Great_ ," Dean was still feeling slightly embarrassed by his choice of words earlier. He tossed the pills back into his mouth and took the water bottle Cas offered and chugged almost the whole thing, not realizing how thirsty he'd been.

"-Besides," Dean grunted when he'd finally drank his fill and he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. "I don't think I can 'murder the world' with only one arm."

Cas turned his face just enough toward him so that Dean could see him rolling his eyes, before he stalked quickly from the room, the bottom of his filthy trench coat billowing slightly out from behind him.

"C'mon, it was _funny!_ " Dean called after him.

"That is the Darkness speaking," Cas called back sourly, still refusing to turn around.

"Hey, "The Darkness" can't tell a joke like that!" Dean surprised himself at how much better he felt when he was smiling. "Cas, _c'mon_!"


	2. Chapter 2

_Study: The Darkness- Dean Winchester_

 _Estimation: approx. 120 mL_

 _Expressed Symptoms: Disconnect from reality, Dulled Emotions, Lightheadedness [Note: Possibly from Blood Loss], Short Attention Span, High Pain Tolerance_

Castiel stared at the page in John's journal, tapping the pen to his lip in thought. What other word could he use besides 'Jokes'? The fact he wasn't taking things seriously- no, that would have been covered with the "disconnect from reality". What really made the angel's chest ache was how little Dean had seemed to care about Sam's well-being: Dean mentioned him once, maybe twice. It was like he had been talking about a boring movie instead of _Sam_.

 _Disregard of Loved Ones,_

Cas jotted down next to everything else, and a small twinge squeezed his chest once again. "Oh, Sam." He whispered softly to himself. "Dean will come around."

 _Jokes._

He finally gave up and wrote the simple word down, ending the sentence with a moody final poke at the paper for the period. He put the pen down with a sigh. Of course, considering the last time he'd seen Dean it had been much, much worse, Castiel knew he still was not himself. Cas shut the book and gently ran his fingers over the worn leather cover. He sighed and put it back on the table, and folded his hands together in his lap for a moment just to think. Dean was used to working very hard to appear normal after the Mark, and he didn't seem to know about the trace amount of Darkness still inside. But if this infected most of the human population-

If it could get Dean to barely care about Sam, it was something _very_ powerful indeed.

"Cas?" Dean darted up in his bed once the angel unlocked the door. "Oh, thank god- I'm so hungry. Can't you bring me something to eat, man? Like, a burger and fries or something?"

"Yes, soon." The angel replied hastily, striding forward and feeling Dean's forehead. Through the skin-to-skin, he was able to get a clearer gauge at just how much of the substance was there.

"I don't have a fever." Dean said, looking up at him in confusion. "I feel fine. I really want to get out of this _room_ , man."

 _150mL_ , Cas was able to narrow it down. _It's growing_.

"-Cas!" Dean snapped. "Didn't you hear me? Just let me go upstairs! I'm fine, and I'd _reaally_ like to rest in my own bed right about now."

"You are not fine, Dean." Cas mumbled back. "You are not yourself, and it's...it's growing."

"Cas, my arm hurts like a bitch, I can't sleep on this bed, and I'm...I'm _fine_ , okay?" Dean moaned in annoyance. "And I'm hungry as hell!"

"If you were fine, then why aren't you worried about Sam?!" Cas finally accused, angrily narrowing his eyes at him and taking a step back, curling his hands into fists. "This Darkness is very dangerous. He could be dead, or-or _worse_!"

Dean stared back blankly at him. "Of course I'm worried about Sam," He replied, much too hollowly for the angel's liking.

Exasperated, the angel bit down hard and tried not to roll his eyes. He stared down Dean and his jaw rippled just slightly as he clamped down on his teeth. "Dean, I've been observing what this darkness does to you. And many of these symptoms...I believe are in line with Croatoan."

Dean groaned in annoyance and covered his face with his hand. "Cas, Jesus Christ, stop with the dramatics, you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion!" Dean looked up at him, beginning to laugh at how serious Cas looked.

"Come on, I just got my arm torn off, I think I'm allowed to be a little grumpy! Are _any_ of those "symptoms" something like, I don't know, what those painkillers would do?" He nodded toward the multiple orange bottles. "If I'm taking _Vicodin_ , of course I'll be loopy. And I haven't eaten in like...three days!" Cas almost began to doubt himself again. _Was_ he blowing it all out of proportion?

"We bond tonight," Cas said gruffly, turning away before he could doubt himself more. Dean was not himself, that was the one thing the angel was sure of. He needed to burn out the substance before it could grow any more.

"Cas, wait-!" Dean yelped as he almost shut the door. "I have a couple sandwiches in the fridge, Cas, I am _begging_ you to bring them down here for me. And more water. Tons of water. Some snacks."

Cas looked back at him, still clamping down hard on his teeth. Dean looked pitiful- he looked completely off-balance with only his left arm, and the bandages were packed heavy over his missing stump. It was strange- the missing space kept drawing the eye, like if the angel looked away and then looked back it would be there again. Dean's gaze was a bit glassy-eyed, and his skin looked pallid and wan.

"Cas, please." He croaked defeatedly, lying back down on the bed with a loud creak. Without saying anything, Castiel turned away and firmly closed the door. Instead of leaving right away, he found himself reaching up and lightly pressing on the door with the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes, and caught his breath for a moment. When Dean had been a demon, sometimes he had been so painfully like his old self that Cas could forget what was happening. He was very good at fighting things that changed him. _This is no different, Castiel._

The world outside would not be doing much better, he reasoned. This Darkness seemed to make humans lose everything that gave them humanity- their kindness and love for one another would be completely obliterated as the substance would be allowed to fester inside of them. The angel bowed his head and sucked in a deep breath. He couldn't do this by himself. He needed Dean by his side, and after he cured him they could begin to try and fix this mess, together.

 _Sam. Claire._ Castiel rested his forehead in the crook of his arm, pressed to the cold steel of the door as he leaned against it defeatedly. _They are still there, in the outside world- ol esiasch od pasbs, my brother, my daughter..._

He felt a strange pinch in his throat. He'd only felt this emotion a few times since he'd occupied a vessel, which he'd come to know as the moment before warm saline leaked from ducts in his eyes. It was not a very pleasurable sensation and he hoped he could avoid it this time. He finally leaned off of the door and rubbed his hands down his cheeks, the uncomfortable pinching in his throat beginning to go away. He turned around to bring Dean as much food as he could from the kitchen.

* * *

They way Dean ate made him sick. He devoured the three sandwiches he'd had, barely even taking the time to chew properly, even though he struggled to eat with just one hand that did not slow him down. After he'd consumed the three sandwiches at a rapid rate, and went on to pour the bag of chips into his mouth, polish off the entire rest of the jar of pickles and then, when everything else was gone, he shoved whole pieces of bread into his mouth by their middles, folding them over and swallowing them after only a couple bites.

 _Subject's Hyperphagia is alarming. Appears ravenous with no regard to how much food was consumed (approx. 4,000cal.)_

 _Water and other liquid consumption is dangerously high._

Castiel had written that last part after having to leave the room, his vessel had started to react unpleasantly to seeing Dean finishing his liter of water and then go on to tip back the green-tinted liquid from the pickle jar.

"Dean," He called into the cracked door, leaning onto the wall for support as his vessel was still feeling slightly nauseated. "...Are you finished yet?"

"...Yeah." He heard him call back, and he creaked open the door to peek inside once again.

Dean was sitting on the floor, surrounded by empty containers and wrappers. He wiped a bit of mustard from his mouth with the back of his hand and his eyes met Cas's, and for the first time the angel detected a bit of fear in his gaze.

"Shit, man." Dean looked up at him from where he sat, cross-legged, his green eyes widened at all the empty wrappers and jars. "This is, uh, not good."

 _Finally_ , Castiel thought to himself. _At least he still has some reason, though it comes and goes_.

"What do we have to, you know, do for this, uh, bonding thing?" Dean began nervously, this time looking away.

"It doesn't require much." Castiel replied. "All I need is a spellbowl, and a bit of your blood."

"Do you have the spellbowl?"

Cas could almost _feel_ his desperation. "I do, yes." He replied softly. "Dean-" His tone insinuated _I know where this is going, and I don't like it._

"We should do it now." Dean said anyway. He gulped. "Cas, I...I can feel it."

"Oh," The word fell quietly from his lips.

"I can tell it's in there now. Right before I turned, when I was a demon, I was always holding it off...and it's building back up again. I thought it was all gone, but...you were right." Dean admitted, training his eyes on the floor. "Cas- I can't live like this anymore. I can't fight it this time."

"The Darkness has been growing since I first found you." The angel admitted to him as he came closer cautiously. "It's now at one hundred and fifty milliliters-"

"So, in _real people_ terms...?"

"Just over a half of a fluid cup." Castiel replied. "The substance, within a body, takes on a liquid form."

Dean screwed up his face. "Gross. And where is it, exactly?"

"Mainly within your chest region, remaining in or around most of your core and vital organs."

"...And you can, what, burn this stuff out of me?" Dean looked down at disgust at his own bare torso, going on to place a tentative hand over his stomach.

"In crude terms, yes." Cas replied softly.

"Get that bowl, Cas." Dean's voice was strained, and he turned away from him once again, hiding his amputated side from view as he leaned defeatedly against the bedpost. "I'm so tired of fighting this."

Cas curled his hand over Dean's shoulder, lightly squeezing to try and comfort him. "Okay," He hummed softly. "I'm sorry, Dean. This will all be over soon."

The angel was extremely unprepared to have a fist impact right in his face, and he stumbled and fell backwards. His hand pressed to his lip, which had split and began to seep an unpleasant iron taste into his mouth. Dean was making a fast break for the door, and the broken chain pentagram above would do nothing to stop him.

"Dean-!" Cas yelped, throwing an arm out and making the door slam shut telekinetically before he could reach it and escape.

Dean struggled with the door, jerking it hard backward, then throwing his body weight on it. "Let me out of here! So _hungry_ , Cas, goddammit, you son of a-"

The angel pressed two fingers to his forehead quickly after flying the five feet or so in half a second. Dean slumped against the heavy iron door, his stomach letting out a hungry gurgle and groan. "Oh, Dean." The angel huffed, kneeling down to snake his arms up under Dean's armpits and drag him back to the bed.

There was no doubt now, he knew. The Darkness made humans so incredibly ravenous that they'd begin to crave human flesh very, very soon. And Croatoan would rear its ugly head, as prophesied.

He just hoped the ritual would still work if one of them were handcuffed.


End file.
